


Seven

by some1_around



Series: Wrap Your Arms Around Me [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Avengers Tower, Child Abuse, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Fix-It, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Insecure Tony, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Polyamory, Scars, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:24:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some1_around/pseuds/some1_around
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony, like just about everyone else on the planet, was born with two soulmarks. One belonged to him, and one was the mark that linked him to his perfect match. Two circles, a smaller one inside of a larger one, with a small star in the middle, colored red white and blue, marked the right side of his rib cage, just below his armpit. And in the center of his chest, another circle, this one not filled in, but just the outline of a circle in electric blue. This one belonged to him.<br/><br/>But unlike everyone else, Tony's marks do not stop at two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony, like just about everyone else on the planet, was born with two soulmarks. One belonged to him, and one was the mark that linked him to his perfect match. Two circles, a smaller one inside of a larger one, with a small star in the middle, colored red white and blue, marked the right side of his rib cage, just below his armpit. And in the center of his chest, another circle, this one not filled in, but just the outline of a circle in electric blue. This one belonged to him.

Tony’s third soulmark appeared a month and three days after his second birthday. It was another star, this one red and on his shoulder. Tony, even at a young age, knew that having more than two soulmarks wasn’t normal, so he hid it. Few people in his life cared enough to look anyway.

By his fifth birthday, Tony had four soulmarks and he knew that if Howard ever found out, he’d wish he were dead. Three-ways weren’t exactly idolized, but now they were accepted and even legalized for marriages. Having more than three soulmarks was generally sneered at; after all, what kind of person needs more than two people to love them unconditionally? How self-centered and vain would you have to be?

The fourth soulmark was a bright green neutron on the side of his hip, and whenever Tony was feeling stressed or angry, he’d settle his hand on the mark over whatever clothing he was wearing, and it would somehow help him calm down.

Howard had sent him away to boarding before the fifth mark came, which was partly a relief and partly a curse. It was much harder to hide soulmarks when you shared a room with someone else and had things like communal showers, but Tony had been using makeup regularly since he was six, and this one was much easier to hide. A small black-widow spider, hiding at the base of his hairline like it didn’t want to be seen. Tony had only noticed it because he’d gotten into the habit of searching his body head to toe whenever he got the chance in case another mark showed up.

It wasn’t even a week after the nearly hidden spider showed up when his sixth mark appeared on his shin while he was sleeping. Two crossed arrows just below his kneecap. Tony prayed that night for the first time in his life that it would be the last.

For the better part of a decade, Tony assumed his prayer had come true. It wasn’t until he was out of boarding school and into his own apartment just off of MIT campus that his seventh, and final, mark appeared.

This one was different from the others – different from every soulmark Tony had ever seen or heard of. Appearance wise it wasn’t that strange – a thundercloud with a white beam of lighting arching down and spider webbing over his thigh. Sure, it was a little more intricate than most, but that wasn’t unheard of. But when it rained, and particularly when it thundered, it felt like the lighting came to life under his skin. It wasn’t painful or even unpleasant, but the first time it happened Tony had bolted out of his seat in the middle of class with a yelp he was so startled. That had been great for his already suffering reputation.

It was the last mark though, and for that Tony was grateful.

By the time Tony was seventeen, Maria Stark had long since lost herself into a bottle, and she’d forgotten the marks Tony had been born with, if she’d ever bothered to look. Jarvis, who’d known of the first three, had died a few back, and he’d never known of the following four. Howard was the only real problem, but so long as Tony played his part and stayed out of sight as often as he could, Howard generally didn’t bother him. And when the old man got drunk, he could barely see straight enough to throw his whiskey bottles at Tony, much less think to check the marks decorating his skin.

The media was fond of speculating what the Stark heir’s symbols were, but Tony was careful enough that not a single picture had ever been taken of the marks. Most magazines and newspapers simply assumed that, as a person in the public eye, Tony and his father had decided to keep the marks a secret so they wouldn’t have people getting fake tattoos and pretending they were Tony’s soulmate in a bid after the riches and fame that came with being a Stark. A few – not many, but just enough to make some noise on the subject – claimed Tony Stark was one of the few, truly despicable people who were so destined to be alone, that he didn’t have any marks.

It’s amazing how wrong those people were.

Howard didn’t have a soulmark. Maria did, but it was faded and grey in the way that told you whomever she had belonged to was long gone. They got married mostly as a business deal – Howard gave Maria all the money she could ever want and in return Howard got a reputation as a family man and an heir for his company – and faked tattoos for each other. Howard was rather indifferent to the whole industry of soulmarks, unless it directly affected his way of life.

The day Howard found out about Tony’s marks, the elder was supposed to be in China. Christmas Eve, and both Howard and Obi had insisted Tony be home for the holidays – it would be bad PR if he remained at school – despite the fact Maria would be visiting her family in Italy and Howard was meant to be on the other half of the world for a press conference.

The conference had been called off, unbeknownst to Tony, and Howard arrived back at his mansion at 8 o’ clock, peeved that even a moment of his precious time had been wasted planning the event. He sought off in immediate search for his son, adamant in grilling his heir on why he’d been so prominently featured in three too many magazines for his college stunts, but when he arrived at Tony’s suite and burst into his room (Howard either stormed into rooms, strode into rooms, or stormed into rooms, and bursting was about as good as Tony ever hoped for) he came across the unusual sight of his only son standing in the middle of his room in nothing but a pair of black boxers smearing what appeared to be nude colored makeup onto the skin under his armpit.

Tony whirled around and the second he saw his father, he prayed for the second time in his life.

(This time, the prayer would not be granted.)

Howard had first assumed his son was simply covering up his marks – not incorrectly – and was actually pleased his son took the initiative to do so. Then he eyes drifted down from the half covered shield on his side, and he saw the circle on his son’s chest. And then the cloud on his thick. The neutron on his hip. And the arrows on his knee.

Tony stood petrified – his room had no windows and by the way fire was burning in his father’s eyes, Howard had definitely seen and recognized the marks. He’d had nightmares about this very moment, hundreds of them and all the possible ways Howard might react and what Tony himself would do – but now, when it really mattered, Tony had nowhere to go.

“Dad-” he tried, speaking around his dry throat, but the single seemed to kick start Howard back into motion.

Howard lunged forward and grabbed Tony’s arm, twisting it roughly and causing Tony to keen high in pain, while his father tugged him from the room. “Six?” Howard growled, shaking him roughly and nearly breaking Tony’s arm as he dragged him through the house. “ _Six_? Were you born to disgrace me, boy?”

“Dad – Howard, please-”

“Shut up!” Howard shouted, and his other hand turned into a fist and connected with Tony’s jaw, knocking him down and out of his father’s grip. It was far from the first time, but Tony’s breath still catches as he tumbles to ground.

Howard let out a vicious stream of curses, only a few phrases reaching Tony’s ear – “stupid fucking child, not a Stark” “disgrace to the company” “no one can know” “doesn’t deserve love” – as the older Stark unlocks and throws open the door to the his lab.

Tony tried to scramble away, but Howard’s hand shot out and grabbed Tony’s shoulder and threw him into the workshop. Tony’s temple collided with a metal table, and Howard’s toolbox fell off it and onto Tony’s head. He was out cold.

When he woke up, Tony was handcuffed to a metal support pole in the back corner of the room, and Howard was looming over him.

None of these things really registered in his head though, because all he could focus on was the feel of the flame from the blowtorch licking away at his skin.

It felt like his soul was burning along with his soulmarks and Tony screamed continuously for nearing an hour before Howard shoved a spare rag into his mouth and shut him up. The pain was… indescribable. Like being the center of a nuclear explosion. And it _didn’t stop._

Howard left Tony lying on the floor, twitching, after burning off all his visible soulmarks. But soulmarks were a peculiar thing, and there was very little understood science around them. By the next morning, the marks had reappeared over the red and black blister skin, a little blurry and now sitting on ruff skin, but still very much there.

So Howard burned them off again.

(The pain was worse each time, if that was possible.)

Howard only found the spider on his neck on the third day, and he nearly burned off all of Tony’s hair trying to get rid of it.

Tony woke up five days after it started, uncuffed but still lying on the cement floor. His soul marks were nothing but black smudges now.

Stuffing down his tears and wiping snot off his face, Tony hightailed it out of the house and into the first car he saw in the garage, not even bothering to grab his license or his clothes. He drove through the night back to MIT where he collapsed onto his dorm room bed and passed out for two days straight.

He woke up to Rhodey’s frantic shouting and was taken to the hospital. Tony claimed he’d been abducted from the train on his way back to the school and that he’d gotten out by short-circuiting the electricity of the building he was being held in, and that’s how he’d gotten the burns. The doctors and nurses thought his story was convincing enough, but it was clear by the way Rhodey kept eyeing him that his closest (only) friend didn’t believe him.

Later when he asked, Tony repeated the story. And when he asked again, Tony told it again. And again and again and again. Until Rhodey stopped asking.

(Tony thought maybe, if he’d asked one more time, he would’ve told him.)


	2. Chapter 2

Tony knows. Oh god, does he know.

It’s after the arc-reactor (and somehow seeing the chunk of metal embedded in his chest a mid a field of ugly scars doesn’t make him want to vomit quiet as much as seeing the burns that still lie heavy on his skin) and after the world learned who Iron Man was.

The arc-reactor makes sense to him, in a way. The blue circle that he knew was his personal mark, the same diameter as the reactor, in the same spot. A warning, maybe, or a vision of what the future was.

He sees Natasha’s mark first, when she’s still Natalie. She’s leaning over his desk like she wants him to look down her tight dress shirt, but his eyes are transfixed on her neck where, under minuscule smudged makeup, he can see a small spider, crawling up into her hair.

That night Tony learns a few things. He learns his assistant isn’t an assistant but a spy for the organization his dad helped start. He learns she’s got a small black widow spider as her soulmark.

He learns she’s in a relationship with a co-agent, a man named Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye. He learns that they’re soulmates, and that they share the spider along with a set of crossed arrows on their calves.

There is no mention of a blue circle anywhere in their files.

That night, Tony gives up two of his soulmates, one before they’d even met. He lets them go before he’d ever had a chance to hold on, and though it makes the faded marks on his neck and calf burn like Howard destroyed them only yesterday and not a decade and a half earlier, he does it anyone. Feels a little lighter for letting them be happy.

Natasha stabs him with a needle and helps save his life, he meets Agent Agent and discovers the video his father left for him long before he knew about Tony’s marks, and then Tony saves himself with a new core and a new element. He’s pretty proud of himself, all in all, and it doesn’t really hurt when he sees Natasha walk away, especially when Pepper is in his arms.

Pepper’s personal soulmark is, hilariously enough, an orange bell pepper on the inside of her wrist. Her second mark though, to Tony’s only slight disappointment, isn’t a red star or a thundercloud, but a small black steering wheel on the bottom of her foot. They don’t talk about it.

Pepper never asks Tony about his lack of soulmarks, but she’s seen his scars and by the sad looks she sometimes shoots him, Tony thinks she knows.

Tony is really, amazingly happy with her, content in a way he’s never really been. This should be his first clue that they’re never going to last. They weren’t destined to last.

It’s Tony’s fault, actually, because the day Happy Hogan roles up his sleeves and Tony is actually paying attention for the first time in forever, the billionaire doesn’t hesitate on calling Pepper before he darts out of the room. He doesn’t even think about it until he’s already left. Doesn’t even recognize what the orange bell pepper on Happy’s wrist actually means.

Pepper calls him later that night in tears and Tony gently shushes her with assurances that all he wants is her to be happy. Happy with Happy, he says, and she chokes out a laugh. They break up by unspoken decision and Pepper is with Happy by the end of the week.

It doesn’t hurt Tony quite as much as he expected it to, but it hurts a great deal more than he lets on. A good bit of the pain gets dulled every time he sees Happy and Pepper sitting close to one another and smiling softly or sharing kisses. But the pain comes back at night when he goes back to his penthouse and back to his empty bed. By morning time, each and every morning, his mask is back in place.

The Battle of New York is unexpected, but Tony is almost grateful. For one thing, it righteously knocks his ass out of the funk he’d been settling into, gives him something to fight for. For the second, he meets them.

Clint Barton has been taken by Loki by the time he meets up with Natasha for the second time, and he respects the hell out of her and how she keeps her cool even though her soulmate is missing, taken under-control by a psychotic god. He, Thor (and really, Norse gods? What is his life?) and Steve manage to level a forest before the real fighting begins and they capture the aforementioned psychotic god together. Tony gives him a nickname and ignores the way electricity is racing under the skin of his thigh for the first time in years.

The scepter gets the best of them all and Tony and Bruce’s brief bromance is interrupted, and Steve says some things that Tony knows are true but doesn’t want to hear anyway, and he says some cruel things in retaliation and apologizes after they’ve fixed the helicarrier because at least what Steve said was correct. Steve apologizes as well, though Tony knows he doesn’t mean it. But that’s okay, because Steve doesn’t hate him quite so much anymore and Tony gets to meet his childhood hero. (He thinks briefly that he went about meeting Captain America much smoother than Coulson did, before immediately shutting down that line of thought. He doesn’t ever want to think about him again.)

He flies a nuke into space and tries to call Pepper while he does it, because even if they’re not together anymore she’s all he has. She doesn’t answer and Tony flies into an expanse of blackness so big he feels like a grain of sand in a universe of beaches. He watches the alien base explode as his eyelids flutter closed, and wonders what will happen to his soulmates – the ones he’s met, and the ones he never will.

He wakes up to Steve Roger’s heart-breakingly concerned face and a roar from his favorite rage monster and suggests that they go out for shawarma because he’s never tried and he suddenly can't stop thinking about all the things he never would have experienced had he died just then. So they go out and get shawarma and it’s delicious, and for just a moment, just a single brief moment, Tony is content.

But he’s stupid, and impulsive, and for some unfathomable reason he can't stomach the idea of not having the Avengers – his team – near him at all times, so he invites them to live in his Tower, renamed Avengers Tower because why not? The board members loved it and stocks were higher than they’d ever been.

He redesigns the top ten floors of the Tower, originally meant to be his own residential living space, so that all the Avengers can comfortably live together without getting in each other’s space.

But to his surprise – and unexpected delight – after only a few weeks, they all seem to gravitate to the common floor more often than not, and somehow – Tony honestly has _no idea_ – movie nights become a thing. It starts as a way to catch Steve and Thor up on pop culture, but soon enough it just turns into what Clint lovingly dubs their ‘chill sesh.’

(Tony won’t ever admit how much he loves movie nights.)

It’s one of these nights are they’re watching one of Tony’s favorite childhood movies, _The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai Across the 8 th Dimension_, when Bruce happens to turn his head just so in the dim light.

Tony sees Clint freeze. Tony sees Clint tug on Natasha’s sleeve. Tony sees them both stare at the mark at the base of Bruce’s hairline. He pretends like he doesn’t.

He pretends like he doesn’t because he sees it too.

A little black spider on the nape of Bruce’s neck.

Clint, Bruce, and Natasha leave rather quickly after that. Both Thor and Steve worriedly ask if something’s wrong, clearly seeing Bruce’s expression, caught between nervous and petrified, and Clint’s eager excitability. Natasha remains impassive, but when Tony catches her eye, they pass the understanding between them. The understanding is this;

_I love Clint and I like Bruce and Clint likes Bruce and Clint loves me and Bruce likes us both._

_Alright._

_Will that be a problem?_

_Not at all. Do you want me to start working on a plan to connect all of your rooms?_

Natasha smiles.

(Not once in the silent conversation does Tony mention that once, a long time ago, he had a pair of crossed arrows on his calf, a bright green neutron on his hip, and a small half-hidden spider on his neck.)

By morning, Tony has drawn up a new set of blueprints and Bruce has two matching sets of love bites on either side of his throat.

Tony can live with this, so long as the happy smile stays on Bruce’s lips. That’s what matters.

That’s all that matters.


	3. Chapter 3

They aren’t stupid, none of them, even if Steve can be oblivious and Thor is adorably unaware and Tony likes to crow about his genius and how no one could possibly understand (they couldn’t), but none of them are stupid. They are all rather smart, actually. Bruce has a doctorate, Thor was raised to be a prince and that meant many types of lessons, Steve read a lot when he was a kid, and if Natasha and Clint weren’t sharp as tacks, they’d be dead.

Well, the same goes for all of them, but the twinsassins in particular.

 Tony figured out the mark on his side as soon as he heard the news that Captain America was still alive. Honestly, he’d recognized the shield design, but he’d assumed it was someone who loved the comics or the movies, as he had when he was a child. Never in his wildest dreams was he the actual soulmate of the world’s first superhero.

The thundercloud also made sense now that Thor, Norse god of thunder, sat in his kitchen every morning eating pop tarts with a dreamy smile. It also made sense why it crackled with energy – Thor was a different species, it made sense that Asgardian marks would work differently. He heard Thor explaining once that Asgardian marks gave you a sense of when your partner was feeling strong emotions. There was no science to it, but Tony had long ago accepted that maybe soulmarks existed just outside of the known laws of physics.

During this discussion, Thor had shown them his mark and (Tony had predicted this) Steve, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha had all jumped to their feet in amazement. Pants were shed in the middle of the living room, and marks were revealed under hastily wiped off makeup. They all had the same ones.

Tony didn’t look, couldn’t stomach the thought of what would happen if he did. He stood up with a grin, wished them luck in what he was sure was about to become an all out orgy on the common room sofas, and hightailed it to his workshop. Blackout procedure. No one allowed in or out for three days. Didn’t matter. None of them came anyway. They had more important matters to deal with at the time.

When Tony resurfaced from his lab on the fourth day to refill his coffee reserves he walked into the common kitchen to find Clint and Steve making out against the counter. A quick glance into the living room showed Natasha sitting on Thor’s lap pushing intense kisses against his mouth, while Bruce gently laved bruises onto the god’s neck. None of them were wearing more than sweats and tank tops. The living room was a mess. Nobody noticed him as he stood there drinking his morning coffee, contemplatively looking over the bared marks on each of their shoulders. Steve’s mark was obviously the shield, Bruce’s was the neutron, Natasha’s, fittingly, was the spider, Thor’s the thundercloud, and Clint’s were the arrows. But each of them had the red star on their shoulder that Tony remembered from his own childhood.

Tony figured there would be someone new living in his Tower soon, but he didn’t have an idea who it could be.

Tony drank his coffee until it was all gone, set his mug in the sink, and left the room. No one noticed he was there.

The same tactic continued over the next few days while the others languished in their honeymoon phase. In fact, Tony became so invisible to the others he began to wonder if he’d acquired a new superpower.

He wasn’t sure he wanted it.


	4. Chapter 4

The star belongs to Bucky, Tony learns.

Natasha and Steve disappear to Washington DC for a few months, and by the time they get back SHIELD has been stripped to its bones and suddenly – and Tony really didn’t see this one coming, genius be damned – there’s a war hero cum ex assassin cyborg living in the penthouse.

Funny how just when you think things are settling down, life throws you a curveball.

Tony actually likes Bucky. He makes Steve smile in a way he’s never seen the super-soldier, and Tony feels a deep connection to his dry, sarcastic humor. They get along fantastically, which is good because Tony spends the first several months after Steve and Natasha return building a brand-new robotic arm for his favorite amputee.

Natasha looks like she’s going to murder him the first time he says the phrase in Bucky’s presence, but the ex-Hydra agent just laughs joyously and proceeds to give Tony a few suggestions on extra features to build into the arm.

It’s beautiful, and Tony is damn proud. He’s just finished the very last of the software for the arm – a program that will allow the arm to mimic the muscle growth of Bucky’s organic arm, so that the soldier doesn’t end up with one super buff arm and another that’s as firm as a cooked noodle. It sure as hell beats the terribly outdated, heavy as fuck piece of disgraceful prosthetic weapon Hydra had given Bucky.

When Bucky sees the new arm for the first time, he cries in Tony’s arms.

“Just one thing,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down, reverently running his fingers over the linked metal of his new arm, shining brightly in the blue lights of the lab. “And I don’t want to sound greedy, because this is amazing… but can you put one more thing on it?” asks Bucky with big wide eyes, biting his lip worriedly.

Tony’s heart melts and he spins around in his chair. “’Course, Buckaroo,” he promises, leaning back in his chair. “What do you need?”

Bucky taps the shoulder of the metal. “You’ve seen the others soulmarks, right?” asks Bucky, and Tony nods. He’s seen Bucky’s as well, when the other’s shirt was off and Tony was taking measurements of the organic arm, and he knows Bucky has a green neutron on his hip and a red, white, and blue shield on his side. He knows he has the other’s mark as well, sees it in the stolen kisses Bucky gives Clint when he thinks no ones looking, and the way Thor wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders after battles.

“And the red star?” asks Bucky, teeth biting harder into his lip. Tony nods silently. “It’s mine,” Bucky tells him, looking away. “I’m their sixth.”

“Called it!” Tony had hollered with a whoop. He jumps up and motions for JARVIS to open one of the closed files he’s got hanging around on his holograms. He smirks at Bucky’s shocked look. “’S already fabricating, buttercup,” Tony says, gesturing to the image of the arm complete with small red metal star at the top.

Bucky hugs Tony again, and then they get to work fastening the arm. It’s no longer fastened to his flesh as Hydra’s was, but is now attacked to a metal plate on Bucky’s stump with a magnetic lock. The arm and the lock use the same anti-EMP technology as the suit, and the Avenger’s are the only ones who are able to detach it from Bucky’s body. It makes for quicker cleaning, easier maneuverability, and much more logical ways to update it.

Tony is fucking proud of it, and he doesn’t try to hide it.

After the initial gushing and praise he receives from the others over the feat of technology, they more or less sink back into their honeymooning and Tony goes back to being invisible.

Except for Bucky.

Tony thinks it’s odd, because Bucky is the reason the rest of them are back to being utter dopes, but he certainly doesn’t mind the company. Bucky hangs out in his lab all the time, talking to Tony or playing with the ‘bots, sometimes asking the genius what he’s doing or how something works. Tony gleefully tells Bucky all that he knows – which is quite a lot – about any subject Bucky shows even the slightest bit of interest in, and in return Bucky doesn’t get fed up with his constant blabbering or his really terrible mood swings when he hasn’t had his mandatory twelve cups of coffee yet.

It’s easy, the give and take of his friendship with Bucky. Tony likes it, relaxes in it, and he thinks that when they get close it brings Tony back into the fold of the team. He’d started to slip away as they got together, like the penguin left out in the cold. It feels good to be back with them, though, and even if it still hurts – hurts like a deep, constant ache in his chest, makes it harder to breathe than the reactor already does – when he looks at them and sees them happy, Tony is okay. The least he can do is give the others space to be happy, and if he can do that by keeping his distance, then that’s what he’ll do. Happily.

Bucky doesn’t seem to agree.

Tony starts to notice it a few weeks before the tipping point. Bucky begins to watch him a little closer, look a little longer, and sometimes when they’re both in the lab and Bucky thinks Tony is too involved in his work to pay attention, Bucky will just stare at him, eyes scanning every bit of Tony with his smoldering gaze.

He doesn’t say anything until a month has passed. The team is out at the park, and Tony’s climbed up Thor’s shoulders and is dangling an apple in front of the god’s mouth. They’re all laughing as Thor obligingly tries to grab it with his teeth, when suddenly Bucky blurts out,

“What’s your soulmark, Tony?”

It’s rather abrupt and shocking to say the least, and Thor nearly knocks Tony off a good seven-foot drop in his double take. Tony isn’t prepared for it. But he was raised to be an improvisational actor so Tony grins at Bucky and taps his chest.

“It was under the reactor,” he says. “Guess it was foreboding it and all. Same pattern, grey, with the triangles and all,” he lies. “Didn’t realize that I’d mimicked it until after the thing was built.” This is mostly incorrect, although the diameter of his soulmark did match the diameter of the arc reactor. He’d measured it down to tenths of a millimeter. Same edge.

The lot of them throw him sympathetic looks, but it’s all part of the script Tony had planned out. To lose a soulmark – yours or your partner’s – is a terrible loss. Some say it aches like there’s a shard of glass buried under your skin. If the information is not freely given, it’s considered incredibly rude to ask someone why or how they lost a mark. The socially acceptable rule is to change the subject.

Steve immediately starts up a new conversation, something about the difference between the music of his time and current stuff, and Bruce and Clint immediately jump in, Thor adding details about Asgardian music. But Bucky’s still watching him, and now Natasha has joined him.

The second time Nat is the one to ask. “And your soulmate’s mark?” she asks.

Tony turns to face her, meeting her gaze head on. The other lapse into silence as they all wait for him to answer. Tony gracefully pulls his legs off of Thor’s shoulders and slides to the ground in front of Natasha, his hand casually in his pockets and his gaze sure. His face remains impassive when he says, simply, “Gone.”

With that he turns on his heel and walks out of the park.

And maybe it’s playing dirty to lie about the death of his supposed soulmate – if anything goes against social convention, it’s that – but Tony has never been particularly concerned about social convention, and this is the best way to assure that they never ask him again.

(This is what Tony tells himself. He certainly doesn’t say it because it feels true. That even if his soulmates – all six – are technically still alive and not even out of reach, they are never going to be _Tony’s_. They won’t ever be _his_ soulmates, no matter what the universe declares. But that’s not what he means, so why even pay attention to that?)

Tony if fine alone. He doesn’t want their pity, but their pity will silence the questions. He’ll take what he can get.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony is fine. No, really. He’s fine. He goes to Pepper’s wedding, walks her down the aisle, reads his best man’s speech for Happy. And he’s fine. It doesn’t hurt. He won’t let it. Pepper is happy. Happy is happy. That’s all that matters. And Tony _knows_ that, so it doesn’t hurt. Not really.

(And he doesn’t cry. No matter what anyone says, he isn’t crying. The ceremony was beautiful is all, and he was just so _happy_. That’s all.)

Tony finally gets back to the Tower near midnight. He falls back against the elevator doors and loosens the chokehold his tie has on his neck and takes his first deep breath of the entire night. His eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head up, mouth moving along to the words of the simple prayer his mother taught him when he couldn’t read. The only thing she ever gave him, and Tony has never stopped taking comfort in it, no matter how sacrilegious he gets. “ _Lord deliver me from my sins_ ,” he finishes, the only words of it he ever speaks out loud, in Italian.

With a final sigh, Tony pushes himself off the wall and opens his eyes – only to find all six of his teammates staring at him from the darkness of the living room, back dropped by the blue light of the muted TV behind them.

_~~(God, they’re beautiful.)~~ _

Bruce clears his throat awkwardly in the silence afterwards and tilts his head to Tony. “How was the wedding?” he asks softly, lips quirking in a tired imitation of a smile that falters after only a moment.

Tony’s grin, when he copies and pastes it to his lips, is much more convincing. He strides forward confidently even though he knows he’s fooling no one, yanking his tie from its knot and dropping it to the middle of the floor. “Unbearably cheesy,” he declares, dropping onto the free couch opposite the others, who have all crammed themselves onto one love seat, an armchair, and the floor in front of the furniture. “I never knew Pepper was such a – _girl_ ,” he says with a wink towards Natasha to show he’s teasing. “Although,” he adds contemplatively, “Happy was probably the one who asked for the doves and pink roses.”

This wrings a slight, broken chuckle from Clint, though it falls as flat as Bruce’s smile. “How are Pepper and Happy?” asks Steve to cover it up, puppy eyes engaged and focused fully on Tony.

“Happily flying to Fiji for their honeymoon, and probably applying for a position in the mile-high club,” Tony says with a smirk, throwing one arm over his eyes.

“Mile-high-?”

“Don’t ask, Stevie,” Bucky interrupts, and his smirk is the closest to convincing out of all they’ve offered tonight. “You don’t really want to know – right now.”

Tony’s smirk turns a little more real. “If you ever need a jet, Buck, you know where to find me,” he offered. He sounds tired, he knows, but he’s hoping it’ll be recognized of exhaustion after an important, busy day, not the kind of tired that builds up through years of the world weighing on your shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Natasha murmurs neutrally, but Tony knows she’s smiling at him, even if he can't see her. Even if her lips aren’t curved, he knows she’s smiling at him.

Tony groans theatrically and pushes himself up off the couch. “Man, I’d love to stay and watch TV on mute like ancient grandparents,” Tony jests, moving between the couches, “but I am pooped. Pepper had a break down before the wedding and guess who had to comfort her? Me, of course. I have to everything,” he whined. “I have so many problems.” Tony grins at them again before turning to the door and striding forward, waving over his shoulder and calling out, “G’night!”

“You can stay, if you want.”

The words freeze him in mid-step in the doorway, hand on the frame as he stares at the ground before his eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t know who said them. Isn't sure if he wants to know.

 _(And he wants to say, god, does he want to stay. Because the way they said it – it sounds like they’re asking him to_ stay _. Join them. And he wants to, but he knows he can't handle it. Can't handle it when they eventually find out how broken he is and leave him. Can't handle the mere thought that maybe he brokenness will drive them apart. Can't handle the guilt and the misery and the_ pity _he will see in their eyes. He wishes he could, wishes he were a better, stronger man._ But he isn’t _._ )

Tony doesn’t know how long he stands in the doorway. No one says anything, but he can feel their eyes on the back of his neck. When he does leave, it’s without a word and without a glance back.

~~It’s the least he can do.~~

***

“How are you, Tony?

Tony sighs inaudibly and doesn’t turn away from his work. They’ve got Bruce in on this little game now. They’ve been playing it for weeks, since the night of Pepper’s wedding. Tony can barely get five minutes by himself before one of them pops up out of _nowhere_ and either asks him how he _feels_ or makes some half-assed attempt at camaraderie. Since last night when Steve took him out for _ice cream_ – and Tony is not making this up – he’d been hiding in his workshop. Watching Steve lick chocolate chip cookie dough while giving Tony his patented puppy-eyes had been crossing a _line_.

“Dandy, dear ol’ doctor,” Tony said, careful not to let annoyance slip into his words. He’d been trying – trying _really_ , _really_ hard not to get snappish when he knew they were just worried about him after his near meltdown after the wedding but – but damnit, he was not a child and he did not need other adults tiptoeing around him on eggshells. “How goes the battle?” he questioned of Bruce, victoriously yanking out the wire in his new design that’d been giving him trouble.

“It goes,” Bruce answered back mildly, a small bit of humor evident in his voice. “Tony,” he started, and the genius sighed, knowing from Bruce’s voice that the doctor wanted to talk about _feelings_ and _emotions_ , and Tony was simply allergic to that kind of thing. He broke out in hives. Bruce took a fortifying breath and Tony could picture him clearly, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. “Tony, we need to talk-”

Tony was never so overjoyed to hear the loud, ugly, blaring sound of the Avengers alarm scream to life throughout the Avengers quarters of the Tower. With a quiet whoop of victory, Tony spun around. “Looks like we’ll have to rain check this, Bruce,” he called over the alarms, already jogging towards his suits. “And really, I can't wait for it, but seems like we’ve got places to be!”

“Tony, please-” Bruce shouted back, sounding pained, and the suit began to assemble around Tony.

“What! Sorry, couldn’t hear you!” Tony shouted across the lab as the helmet snapped in place and the workshop’s balcony opened up. “Gotta fly!” he said to Bruce, now through the team comms. “Meet you on the field!”

“Tony! _Tony_!” he heard Bruce shouting after him, but Tony flew on. He had a city to save, and if he managed to avoid an uncomfortable conversation about boundaries between friendships and relationships – which he just _knew_ was coming – well, it was just a win-win then, wasn’t it?

Tony kept flying.

***

The battle certainly wasn’t their worst – no civilian causalities, no life-threatening injuries on the team, and the baddie locked safely away – but it certainly wasn’t their _best_.

What stood testimony to this fact was the quick decontamination showers they were shoved in before being hustled into a quarantine room at SHIELD in nothing but their underwear and shirts – except for Tony, who was the one who managed to explode the giant goo monster and got the brunt of the impact. Even through the suit his clothes got soaked and right now all he has on are shield issue boxers.

“I hate biologists,” Tony grumbles, sliding down with his back to the wall, arms crossed habitually over his chest, the blue lines of the arc reactor showing through. He moves his arms a little and the light fades. “Biologists suck.”

“I have a degree in biology,” Bruce says calmly, raising an eyebrow.

Tony smirks but it’s weak and forced. “Except for you Brucie,” he amends. “I love you. Even if half the people in your major seem to accidently almost destroy New York.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Bucky agrees.

Steve smiles at him before turning back to the group. “Any injuries?” he asks, receiving head shakes from all, then fixes his look on Tony. “What about you?” he asks again, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Tony assures.

“Really?” asks Bucky, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “Why are you hugging your chest then?” he asked pridefully.

Tony glances down at his chest in brief confusion. He is holding his torso, his right arm draped over the middle of his chest and tucked under his left. It _does_ kind of look like he’s hurt his ribs and is trying to hold his body still. But he’s not.

Tony looks back up. “I’m good,” he says assertively.

By the looks thrown at him, none of them believe him. “There is no shame in admitting an injury gained in battle, dear Anthony,” Thor says gravely.

Tony chuckles, but doesn’t drop his arm. “Really guys,” he says, trying to sound as honest as possible, “I’m good. No injuries.”

“Why are you holding your side then?” asks Bruce, moving across the room. “Come on, Tony, it’s probably just a bruised rib. I’ll even let you go into your lab so long as you let me bind it,” Bruce tried to bride.

Tony watched him closely before dropping his left hand and turning, showing Bruce his decidedly un-bruised side. “See?” he prompted. “No breaks, cracks, or bruises. I’m actually not hurt.”

Bruce scanned Tony’s side, brows furrowed, before he nodded and sat back down. Tony smirked triumphantly at him before settling back against the wall, arm still draped over his chest as casually as he could.

Natasha got it first. Tony saw her eyes widen and drop to his chest, to the edges of metal peaking out from beneath Tony’s arm and the scar tissue covering his whole chest. She cursed softly in Russian, turning her head away. Tony turned to face the wall, his jaw clicking shut. Bruce understood second, and looked at Tony sympathetically, looking like he wanted to say something comforting, but he didn’t.

Bucky got it next, wincing harshly while Steve looked at him in concern. Clint opened and closed his mouth for a moment, staring at Tony’s chest until Natasha hit him and he quickly looked away. Steve, surprisingly, was the best actor, and when it occurred to him he simply worked his jaw and turned his head.

Thor quite obviously did not understand if the way he was looking back and forth between all of them was any indication. But when he opens his mouth to ask, Steve shushes him with a murmur.

They sit in terse silence for the remaining two hours, the few attempts made to lighten the pressurized atmosphere of the quarantine short-lived and unsuccessful. It seems that not only Tony, but Bucky and Clint both have no desire to converse, and the three are the group’s main conversationalists. Bruce seems to be unsure how to proceed, and Natasha has never been the best at comforting others. Steve just seems lost.

Tony is already scrambling down the hall and yanking on his clothing – shirt first – by the time Coulson’s voice buzzes over the sound system with the all clear, the doors having slid open only a moment before.

Tony jumps into the decontaminated suit before he even buttons his pants and takes off, skipping debrief. But he hears Steve telling Fury to let Tony go over the comms.

Tony knows it’s irrational. Knows none of them would _ever_ think like his god-awful godfather – but then again, he never thought Obi would be capable of something like that. But his team is _good_ , each one in a high-classification in Tony’s mind of the very few people in the world he’s ever met who were _true_. Not many people were awarded that title. He wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life sleep in his Tower.

But irrationality will not be bested by man and is, in its very nature, nonsensical. It doesn’t matter that Bruce has helped him change the casing, the Bucky’s arm contains almost the same technology, that each of them know the combination to the safe Tony keeps his spares in, and that they all know how to remove the reactor.

Because this time, Tony didn’t get to _choose_ who saw it.

He lands on the balcony connected to his lab, JARVIS already in the process of opening the doors and dismembering the suit from around Tony, as he stumbles forward towards his couch, eyes fogging at the edges with the beginning of a panic attack. He collapses down, face pushed into the conforming edges of the memory foam pillow Bruce insisted was better for his back. He’s glad for the grip right now.

He hears Dummy whirring concernedly before he feels a familiar blanket being draped unevenly over his shoulders. He shudders into the contact, breathing out shakily into the thick fabric of the pillow.

In this position, Dummy at his feet and Jarvis watching silently from above, chest pressed down firmly, Tony feels the bite of the panic begin to fade. When he hears Butterfingers and You whir up softly, he relaxes more and is no longer teetering on the side of a panic attack. He sighs in relief and melts into the couch, bonelessly exhausted now that he’s not terrified.

He won’t fall asleep tonight, probably won’t sleep all week, but in the morning he’ll call Rhodey. He won’t tell his friend that anything is wrong, but Rhodey will know any way, and he’ll talk with Tony calmly, make him pull up a Skype call. They’ll talk and Rhodey will tell him as much as he’s allowed to, and Tony will jokingly fill in all of the high-classification information he’s not supposed to know, and Rhodey will sigh and Tony will snicker. He won’t sleep that night either, but it’ll be okay.

Tony will be fine.


	6. Chapter 6

He is fine, eventually. Rhodey tattles to Pepper, but because she’s amazing, instead of calling his therapist, she sends him on a weeklong business trip to Japan. Tony merges a deal, makes several billion dollars, gets very drunk, and sleeps about three hours over the entire trip, but at the end, he feels amazingly better.

When he arrives back at the Tower is just after seven on a Thursday night – movie night, because Pepper is just that good of a planner. The team is already gathered in the den, popcorn popped and stationed in enormous bowls on the tables, couches and floors, disk waiting in the slot.

Clint drops from the ceiling when Tony comes through the door, landing solidly in Thor’s lap with a whoop. “Tony’s home!” he calls out, and the rest of them turn to smile at Tony, Bruce already pushing the play button.

“We’re watching _The Martian_ ,” Steve tells him with a smile as Tony approaches, undoing his tie and shedding his jacket in the middle of the floor.

Tony grins and flops down next to Steve and Bucky. He’s imagining it, but as they readjust it feels like they’re purposefully moving to sandwich him tightly between their muscled bodies. He ignores it. “Aw, Stevie, just for me?” he croons int Steve’s face.

Steve’s smile softens and Tony’s heart bangs against the reactor. “Just for you,” he says softly. Tony looks foward before he can see any more emotion building in Steve’s eyes.

The movie is fantastic – Clint and Natasha love the survival aspect, Tony and Bruce ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ over the science, Thor likes anything in space, it’s just Bucky’s type of humor, and Steve spends the whole movie reveling in the fact that he’s chosen the perfect movie. Dork.

By the end of it, Tony feels better than he has in weeks, even if Steve and Bucky are so close to him that only the energy of their atoms keep them from melding with Tony.

It’s okay, because Tony has his team with him, and that’s all he needs.

***

Strange things start happening around the Tower. Weird things.

It starts pretty simple – Tony stumbles into the kitchen one morning after an eight-hour sleep binge (which is pretty exceptionally long for him) and instead of suffering through the effort of making a cup of coffee, there’s a steaming mug of his favorite blend sitting on the counter, in his largest mug. It’s pretty unusual for anyone in the Tower to make coffee and not drink it, but Tony just shrugs and hopes it isn’t Natasha’s as he downs the cup.

The same thing happens a few more times over the next few weeks, always after Tony has finally crashed after several days of working straight, and Tony is grateful to whoever keeps leaving it there.

It doesn’t even occur to him until the fourth time it happens the mugs are in his personal kitchen. He just shrugs it off though – the Avengers all live in each other’s space now. It’s pretty commonplace.

They start watching more Disney and Pixar movies on Thursday nights. Tony isn’t the one to suggest them – he’ll never admit his slightly insane adoration of children’s movies – but he enjoys them anyway. There’s probably some deep, psychological reason behind it, something about how the only shows he watched as a kid were National Geographic documentaries and his adult mind is trying to compensate for it. Tony doesn’t care. He just likes watching Wall-e float through space with his fire extinguisher.

Once again, the Avengers crowd in close to his sides, although this time it’s Clint and Natasha – which is a little nerve-racking, as Tony knows one wrong move and the red-haired assassin will slice his head off. He keeps his elbows locked against his sides and his back straight until Natasha sighs in frustration and pulls his head down onto her shoulder. Almost like it was a planned move – and since it’s the twinsassins he was talking about, it very well could’ve been – Clint pulls Tony’s legs onto his lap and Tony is left leaning between the two of them. It’s…comfortable, but Tony won’t let himself relax too much.

It’s not just Bruce and Steve pulling him out of his lab anymore. Now even Thor has been down to the lab to request his presence for some spur of the moment team-bonding activity, or needing help with a mundane task around the tower that they should be able to do by themselves.

One of the excuses they bring him is team dinner. They used to do them on Saturdays and Tuesdays, but suddenly they add Wednesdays and Fridays to the schedule as well. And Mondays and Sundays are team lunch day. Team lunches aren’t even a _thing_ – Tony is eighty percent sure. The most ridiculous, however, is Wednesday brunch. Which… really? Tony can't wrap his head around it the first time Natasha strides into his space and orders him upstairs for French toast and waffles.

It’s weird to be eating this many meals a week – Tony hasn’t scheduled meals out side of company dates and events since he was fourteen and graduated out of that god-awful Hell known as boarding school. He thinks he’s gaining weight, but it surprisingly doesn’t seem to be affecting his figure at all. And the team seems eager to shove food and sweets at him, so it’s possible he’d fallen a bit bellow the healthy weight line. But genius halted for no man. Or pie. Even Clint’s lemon meringue. Which was Tony’s favorite.

Clint starts making that pie at least once a week. Tony supposes he’s making it for either Steve or Bruce, but he’s not really going to question this one. He won’t risk the pie.

It’s weird, sure, but Tony’s clothes actually fit better now, the black bags under his eyes have turned grey, and even Pepper smiles at him more. So he can deal with the pity that is obviously causing his team to go nuts. It makes them feel better after all, so no one’s losing. So long as when they look at him he can't see it brimming in their eyes, he will be fine.

He always is.

***

The vents aren’t as bad as Tony thought they would be. Honestly, he was expecting a claustrophobic chamber of unbendable steal, but it’s actually a little roomy. Of course, Tony designed it so a grown man could wiggle through them, and Tony’s smaller than Clint, so it isn’t terrible. The vents are decent, and Tony has a good enough sense of direction that he doesn’t feel hopelessly lost. And as they are ventilation shafts, air is not as in demand as Tony expected.

But they _could_ be brighter.

That’s why Tony’s up here, actually. He’d originally designed them knowing that eventually he’d probably notice an archer infestation, but he hadn't expected Clint to be up here as much as he is. And after their most recent battle, Tony was planning on renovating the part of the Tower that took a few hits, so why not add a few other features as well?

Clint is currently on some super-secret mission for SHIELD – well, he’s in Hawaii trying to track down the drug-lord there who has been selling to minors, and he’s going undercover as Roderick Winnings, but it’s _supposed_ to be a secret – so Tony isn’t worried about getting caught in the hawk’s nest.

Another interesting thing he’d discovered that day was that sound carried amazingly well in the vents. He’d overheard Bruce murmuring to himself about needing new glasses and Tony had already called in the prescription so he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

Bruce had been on the other side of the room from the vent Tony had heard him. Tony wondered if this was how Clint always seemed to know everything that happened in the Tower. Probably.

“He could be telling the truth.”

“You know he’s not.”

Tony paused. He was near Steve’s floor he knew, above the living room. And there was no reason Natasha shouldn’t be there – they were dating, they spent time together. Tony had no right to eavesdrop on their conversations.

“We shouldn’t press this, Nat. It’ll just make him clamp up.”

“I think it’s high time someone made him open up a bit.”

“We did make him open up! And then he didn’t talk to us for a week.”

“He was lying.”

“You don’t know that!”

“It’s my job to know, Steve.”

Really, Tony should just go. They were fighting, he really shouldn’t be listening to this. It was none of his business what kind of trouble was happening in paradise.

“Six burns, Steve. All in exactly the right spot.”

“He has burns all over his body.”

“None like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Those scars aren’t from an accident.”

Tony should have left. He really should’ve, but he couldn’t now. It felt like he had frozen to the metal. He couldn’t move an inch.

“Someone – I don’t think it was him – burned his skin on purpose. The scars are too deep for anything else. What other reason could you think of for those to be there?”

“Tony has been dealing with kidnapping for years. Any one of them could have tortured him like that.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. God, he didn’t want to hear this.

“Why are you trying to convinces yourself that Tony isn’t your soulmate? You love him, I know you do.”

“I – Natasha, even if he was… he doesn’t want us.”

“You are clueless, Steve Rogers. Truly clueless. The way he looks at us… you have to have seen.”

“He’s just lonely.”

“Of course he is. Tony Stark has been lonely since the day he was born.”

He can't breathe. The vents are starting to feel an awful like that godforsaken closet on the third floor of the Mansion that Maria would lock him in when he was being too loud. And in the same way he did back then, Tony makes sure his quick breaths are silent and makes sure his shaking muscles don’t jostle the walls. He goes silent.

“I – I don’t want to hurt him….”

“We won’t, Steve. None of us could ever hurt him. You know that.”

“What – what if he says no?”

With a gasp, Tony comes back to life, scampering down the vents. He knows he’s banging around and clanging like crazy, knows they have to hear him, but he - he can't _think_.

His brain leads him to his lab and he drops from the vents onto his couch in an ungraceful slump. He shivers and retches over the arm of the couch, before pulling himself together with a gasp.

“Fire up the diagnostics for – I don’t know, whatever I was last working on,” Tony orders JARVIS, leaping up and looking frantically around the lab. Everything is in place, he feels his cheeks and they’re dry. “Have – have Steve and Nat asked about me?” he asks, scrubbing his eyes to make sure they’re dry.

“Agent Romanov requested your whereabouts ten seconds ago. I informed her you were working on Agent Barton’s new arrows. She and Captain Rogers are both headed down.”

“Don’t tell them anything,” Tony orders, spinning around and putting his hands up against the designs. He begins to flick numbers around, switches out random materials, watches the simulation out of the corner of his eye, not really gathering data, though the screen next to him records it all.

When Steve and Natasha burst into his lab, Steve visibly panicked and Natasha slightly disheveled – which is about as panicky as she ever gets – Tony looks calm and collected, not a hair out of place as he runs two separate simulations.

Tony looks up and grins at them. “Natasha!” he exclaims, waving the data table out of the way. “Just the girl I needed. What do you think is better for grappling arrows – thinner shaft with more space inside, but lighter material, or thinner rope inside the shaft, which would be a little heavier than Clint is used to?” he asks, leaning back against the desk behind him. “I’m thinking thinner rope would be better, but then I’d have to design that as well – you know, actually I'll just go with that. I’ve got the time,” Tony decides, waving the screens away. “J, pull up a new blank project.”

“Tony – how long have you been down here?” asks Steve, confusion entering his already strained face.

Tony waves him off with one hand, the other already working on the new thread thin grappling rope. “Ugh, none of that,” he whines. “I know I know – sleep is important, regular meals are necessary, blah, blah, blah, I'm almost done with this, okay?”

Steve’s face melts into utter relief, but Natasha’s eyes are sharp. He hasn’t fooled her. “We heard something in the vents,” she tells him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, so have I,” he snarks. “We do have an archer infestation, I'm sorry you didn’t get the memo.”

“Clint’s in Hawaii.”

“He is?” asks Tony, taken aback.

“Sir, the day is currently Thursday the twelfth,” JARVIS supplies, the sweetheart.

“Oh. Man, I lost a day or two somewhere in there,” Tony says, scratching his head and yawning widely. “What time is it?”

“One thirty,” Steve answers before JARVIS can, smiling softly at Tony. “Come on, genius, let’s get you to bed.”

Tony lets Steve pull him from the lab and up the stairs, hastily calling for JARVIS to save and whining a bit about Steve’s gentle manhandling. Natasha follows a step behind and Tony can feel her gaze like knives on the back of his neck.

“There are six burns on your body,” Natasha says, and Tony freezes mid-step, Steve the only thing that keeps him up. “There is one on your thigh, one on your hip, your calf, your side, your shoulder, and on the nape of your neck.” Tony closes his eyes and prays that this isn’t happening. This _can't_ be happening. “The burns were intentionally inflicted but you have made no initiative to have the scars surgically removed or altered.” Natasha takes a step forward and Tony drops his head. He feels Steve’s fingers tighten around the top of his arm. “In the same spot that these burns are on your body are six soulmarks on each of our skin. Do you have an explanation?”

Tony swallows thickly and finally looks up, his eyes meeting Natasha’s, a grimace on his lips. He feels like he’s about to throw up or fall over. There’s no way he can come back from this. He’s been found out.

The levee has broken.

“Tony….” Steve’s voice sounds heartbroken, betrayed, like something has just fallen into light that he has been trying so hard to believe wasn’t real. Tony flinches away from it, wrenching out of Steve’s grip and stepping to the side.

“I used to have your marks,” Tony confirms, not looking at either of them. He laughs harshly and says, “But you don’t need to worry about that. They’ve been gone for a long time. I’m not going to try and worm my way into your life – I didn’t tell you for a reason. So I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone and we never spoke of this again. Thanks.”

“Worry – Tony, what are you –hey!”

Steve catches his wrist and pulls Tony to his chest before the genius can leave the room as he planned. Tony finds himself wrapped up between two strong, big arms, gentle fingers tangled in his hair. He’s unquestionably imprisoned within the confines of Steve’s arm, but Tony doesn’t feel trapped.

“You stupid, _stupid_ man,” Steve murmurs, swaying a little as he tightens his grip on Tony. “Do you honestly believe that? That we don’t _want_ you? Tony, what in god’s name do you think we’ve been doing for the last months?”

Steve sounds just a bit angry but mostly incredulous and sad. And it doesn’t seem like the anger is directed at Tony by how tightly he’s still clinging to Tony, so that’s a plus. “What?” asks Tony, stiff-muscled and confused, but not pulling away.

“We’ve been wooing you, as Steve would put it,” Natasha said, her head popping into existence next to Tony’s face. “Or trying to,” she added icily. “Evidently, the subject of our affections has not been denying us as we’d presumed.”

“What?” asks Tony dumbly.

Steve pushes Tony away and for a second Tony freaks out, wonders what he said wrong and how he could’ve fucked this up already – whatever ‘this’ is, it hasn’t even begun and he’s ruined it. But Natasha winds her fingers through his and the simple action somehow slows the rapid beating of his heart to something that is maybe reasonable, given the high-stress situation.

It takes Tony a second to realize what’s happening, but when he does his jaw drops. After all, this is almost literally a recreation of his first wet dream as a kid, though Natasha is a pleasant addition.

Steve is peeling off his light grey t-shirt that is several sizes too small, and Tony’s mouth goes a little dry. Not because of Steve’s perfectly tan skin, or because of the rock solid washboard abs – he’s seen those before and he’s managed to school his bodily responses to them – but because in the center of Steve’s chest, right between his pecs….

“You… you have my mark?”

Natasha kisses his cheek lightly and Tony turns to her with dazed eyes. “We all do,” Natasha says gently, pulling down the collar of her shirt far enough that Tony cans see a ring of blue between her breasts. She lets go and the blue is once again covered, but Tony _knows_ that it’s there. He just can't believe it.

“What are you-” Tony has to tear his eyes away from Steve’s still bared chest to see Bucky, standing in the hallway, eyes wide in surprise, before he simply shrugs, hands going to the hem of his shirt. “Guess we’re doing this now then,” he grumbles, pulling his tank top over his head and dropping it onto the floor. “I’m guessing this is yours?” he asks with a smirk, tapping the rim of the line.

They all have it. _His_ mark. It’s – it’s not just him. And – maybe, just _maybe_ … Tony doesn’t have to be fine anymore.

Tony’s knees buckle without warning and Steve is a second too late in his attempt to catch him. Tony ends up on the hardwood floors on his hands and knees, heaving and gagging but not throwing up, because despite his team’s best efforts he hasn’t eaten in a few days. He closes his eyes against the taste of bile on the back of his tongue.

It feels like where the arc normally resides there’s a ball of radioactive acid eating away at his core from the inside. The pain is greater than having a car battery shoved into his open ribcage and pressed against his heart was. It’s like a ring of molten gold was shoved deep into his skin and had begun melting away to conform around his veins and ribs.

“-mark trying to bond-” that’s Bruce, when did Bruce get here? Tony can't see anything but a haze of grey. The rest of his skin feels like it’s burning now, tightening and changing, melting away. “-accepted us as soul-” he hears the fragment of Bruce’s words but the doctor – like everything else – is fading in and out. Tony can't make out more than a few words at a time and everything else is just noises. “-he’ll be fi-” The burning sensation is increasing and Tony doesn’t actually know what’s happening now. He wonders if he’s dying, if he’s been poisoned. It’d prove his theory that the universe’s favorite thing is irony, him finally maybe possibly getting this chance to be with them, and then dying.

Tony doesn’t _want_ to die. As bad as things have gotten, he hasn’t wanted to die in a long time. He has so many things he needs to do. Deeds he needs to atone for. Lives that are his job to save. People he needs to avenge. All the things he would never be able to make, all the ways he would never have a chance to improve. He doesn’t want to leave the world before he makes up for everything and sets the record straight.

But Tony can admit he’s reckless to the point of suicidal tendencies, and though he doesn’t wish for death, he’s never been concerned about it. Especially after Afghanistan. So long as he died saving someone, doing the right thing… the thought didn’t bother him.

But right now? Right now when all he feels is pain and the warmth of his team’s bodies gathered around him?

Tony kind of wants to live.


	7. Chapter 7

Other than a few trivial syndromes and actions, such as the mystery that is yawning, soulmates and marks are one of the few remaining unexplained phenomena of modern medicine and technology. They don’t even really belong to either of those categories, are so completely hard to label that most people – including a good portion of scientists and doctors – put them in a section by themselves. Some people call it magic. Some people say it’s a sign of a higher power. Some people say it’s psychology, and others that it is simple biology. There have even been reported articles on why soulmarks are just proof that humanity is living in the matrix. They’ve been around since the dawn of humanity at least, since paintings on walls and carved statues were first erected. Some animals even have them, and not in any logical sense. Dogs, fish, cats, birds, and various species of monkeys and apes have all been documented having marks. But not bonobos, the animal genetically closest to the DNA of humans.

Tony is not a biologist. He is not a chemist. He is not a historian, a cytologist, a zoologist, a priest, a rabbi, a religious official, or a magician. It’s not his job to figure out why soulmarks act like they do. But he does know a lot about them – being such a unique case growing up had prompted a lot of research and learning on the topic. Tony knows soulmarks are nearly indestructible from the human skin, and that research has been conducted that says it’s much easier to rid a person’s skin of a soulmark should the person not wish to have the mark. And he knows it’s possible for marks to come back.

When Tony first wakes up, he’s in a large bed with soft sheets, surrounded on every side by firm, warm bodies. Clint’s voice is what’s woken him up, the archer and the assassin whispering to each other behind the mammoth of Thor’s sleeping form, out of Tony’s sight. Tony can't hear what they’re saying over the pounding in his head, but he opens his eyes enough to see a blue circle inked onto Thor’s wide chest, no longer covered by makeup, before he once again falls into the land of sleep.

The second time he wakes up he’s more coherent then before. Though his head still aches awfully, it’s now cushioned in someone’s lap and the rest of the bed is empty. Steve’s words drift into his ear, the soldier’s fingers curled in his hair.

“ _Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head_ ,” Steve read, the words familiar to Tony. “ _He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies.”_

He heard Steve sigh, “Sounds like you, Tones,” and felt the press of lips to his hair before he fell asleep again.

The third time he wakes up, he’s curled around Natasha and Bruce is examining all of his burns. This time he’s awake long enough for Bruce to tell him what’s happening – in lay men’s terms, Tony accepted his soulmates, subconsciously deciding that he both wanted them and their love for him, and due to this decision, his soulmarks… grew back. Essentially. It’s all very confusing stuff, but the basics if that it hurt a lot, and Tony’s been asleep for four days. He doesn’t stay awake, but he manages to give Bruce a bleary nod of understanding before he falls back asleep.

The fourth time he wakes up long enough to become actually coherent.

It’s dark outside, his huge wall-sized glass windows showing him the entirety of New York, lights glimmering from the towering skyscrapers an acceptable replacement for the stars. The only light in the room is from the arc reactor, but even the chill blue seems to have taken on a certain warmth.

Tony is very warm. His eyes flicker around him, around his bed – and yes it’s big enough to fit seven people, but that was just a coincidence and certainly not his foolish heart making it a possibility to share it with that many people – and to the people piled in it.

Natasha is wrapped like a cat around their heads and over the pillows, stomach resting against Tony’s hair as she breathes quietly, in and out. Clint mimics her position at their feet, mouth hanging open slightly as he dreams of whatever archers dream about. Thor lies like a mountain on the edge of the bed closer to the wall, and his snores rumble like thunder in a way that makes Tony smirk. Between him in the god is Bruce, the scientist gripping Tony tightly even in unconsciousness, and his face looking years younger in rest. On Tony’s other side are Bucky and Steve, strong muscles and tanned skin wrapped around each other tightly and heat radiating off of them thanks to their super-metabolisms. So yeah, Tony is very warm.

He’s hot, and bracketed in on all sides, and there’s no way he’s getting out of this bed until they let him, and he has never, ever felt so safe.

Tony smiles and closes his eyes, snuggles in closer against Bruce, feels Natasha wiggle towards him, and lets Thor’s snoring lull him to sleep.

The problems will be there in the morning. The issues they will need to talk about can wait. Right now, all that matters is them.

 _Us_ , Tony’s half-asleep mind thinks blearily, and his lips twitch. He likes the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! More will be coming in this universe.  
> (The passage Steve reads Tony is from Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird.")


End file.
